Do you know?
by Blessed Child
Summary: A single Elven woman. It is unknown who she is, where she came from, what she is doing. Only she knows and she doesn't intend to tell anyone. This tells of her journey through Middle Earth. Romance is not a main theme, only one that comes into play later.
1. Part One

Disclaimer: I do not own Middle earth. I only own the characters that are of my own creation.

Do you know?

Part 1

Do you know what it feels like to know your past, but not understand? Do you know what it feels like to desire the answers to what seems like rhetorical questions? Do you know how it feels to not know why you're doing something and to ask yourself what you are actually supposed to be doing every day of your life?

I do. I have been asking myself these questions since it occurred to me that something was wrong. For over three millennia I have been searching high and low for answers to questions I have never understood. Why was it I who was subjected to all these problems? My life has mostly been a set path, others always willing to help me; I was able to follow my thoughts and dreams. It allowed me to begin my continuing search for answers. The thing is, I don't know who has them. Or if they even exist.

I look down at the still woman lying in front of me. Her body is broken; her spirit has fled to the halls of the dead. Not that these mortals believe in anything like that. The woman face would not betray her death; it is completely still, eyes closed, lips curving into a small smile. Her smile showed her relief in leaving the pain of this world behind for the glory and beauty of the next. But, still leaving life behind her. The little boy child, only a few minutes old, was wriggling in my arms. He opened his mouth and let out a little gurgle, waving a hand in the air.

"Milady?" Came a tentative voice from beside me, "Milady, are you alright?" I snapped myself out of my reverie to turn to the young woman – the healer who had been assigned to help me.

"Yes, child?" I answered softly.

She blushed at the reference to her age. She was young, I'd noted unhappily at first, but she was extremely skilled as I soon found out. "I am not that young, Milady. I came of age three years ago."

A small smile escaped onto my lips, she was nineteen. "My apologies, Enna. But even though you are of age, that still puts me at three millennia older than you." The young woman was shocked into silence. Taking an advantage of her stillness, I handed her the small infant. "Here," I said, "You need to find him a wet nurse as soon as possible."

She nodded, and I waited. I could tell that she had something else to say, but couldn't put it into words. "Milady … " Her voice trailed off. I waited again, standing perfectly still. She looked up from the small child in her arms. "Who … who are you?" She asked silently, in a bare whisper no human could've heard.

Startling her, I answered, "My name is Aredhel. I am one of the Elven kin. I am bound to ensure the continuation of the sorry line of those who rule these lands, though I have come too close to breaking that promise I made so long ago. The current Lord being one of those reasons," I ended bitterly, closing my mouth to prevent myself revealing more.

Something close to comprehension dawned in her eyes, or was it recognition? I thought to myself. "I know you." She muttered, frowning. She then suddenly exclaimed, as if just remembering, "You met my great-grandmother! She mentioned you in her notes … her notes on healing."

The girl's face displayed shock and awe. Aware that the Elves had mainly been avoiding contact with the world of men, I just nodded and made to walk out the door. The girl began to speak suddenly, beginning to ask questions with a small voice. "No. I need to go. I don't have time," I said sharply.

As I again turned to go, she asked meekly, "Where to Milady?" She cowered when I turned to her, fully aware of her attempt to break the order just given to her. Preparing for a blow from myself. Or worse.

Taking pity on her was easily the best option. She had obviously been abused over wrong doings in the past, even though her position was one high enough to warrant a little respect now. The past doesn't fade from ones mind, it remains there like a shade. Affecting you. I smile and she slowly relaxes. "I am going to see his _lordship_." She answered, slurring the word to make it seem derogatory. "To inform him of his current …" I smile at the small child in Enna's arms and give a wary glance to the body of his late mother. "His current situation."

"Are you sure you would not wish me to go in your stead, my Lady?" She whispered. "His lordship is going to be most unhappy."

I smile at her from the door. "He scares you greatly, I can see that. You need not put yourself under stress for no real reason. I will go." I gesture at the child in her arms. "Make sure he is wrapped up warmly." With that I quit the room.

Walking down a dismal and dimly lit corridor towards the main hall of the grand house I hear low voices talking. Not just any voices, I hear people speaking in the Elven tongue. As I turn the corridor I spy a group of them sitting on a bench and leaning on the wall outside the entrance to the hall. All male, and all equipped for battle. Wearing leather armour and Elven weapons in hand. They are quietly talking among themselves.

"He seems to think that we will find them here." One says.

"We may still. You would never know." Says another.

"I still don't see why we have to look to mortals for assistance. It is our problem, not theirs." Comes a bitter voice from the end of the row.

As I near the group attention is immediately drawn to me. "She has blood on her hands." Mutters the one on the end. "Is it an indication of the displeasure of the women in these halls? They are beginning to kill?"

Another chortles, "Would it be such a bad thing? The loss of life in this sorry place is not necessarily a bad thing."

Another, in a more sombre tone interrupts. "I don't believe that. Those in this place have as much of a right to life as any others. Who are we to deny them that?"

I hear this as I near the doors to the hall. I stop and turn to the last speaker. I bow, startling them. "Thank you for recognising that fact." I answer back in the Elven tongue. "Would you deny the little child I have just birthed his life? The one that his mother died to give him?" The group become silent and the one nearest to me shakes his head. "Thank you." I whisper. I give my red-stained hands a quick glance, nod to them, receiving a slight bow in return and turn to walk into the hall.


	2. Part Two

Part 2

I'll say that the halls of men are usually a dirty place. Not definantly the fault of the inhabitants, but betimes, there is a stink in the air and an unmistakable stain on the bloodlines of man when their own vanity and visions of grandeur are exorbitant and above their station. To be fair, the actual surroundings I find myself in are very clean. But unfortunately the man I find myself treating with is not. He is unwashed, a grubby beard growing on his face with what looks like the remains of his midday meal. A distinct odour comes from him, but I cannot place it. If I'm honest, I do not want to know where he acquired such a smell.

"This hall has stood for many millennia, built by my distant forefathers. It is my pleasure to live here and reign over their lands as they once did." He gives me what he feels to be a friendly smile, but the brown of the stains on his teeth are almost too much for me. I manage a respectful smile in return. It is good that no one expects more from an Elf, or I would have great trouble expressing myself in talking with this man. I have heard enough about his halls and his lands, the latter of which would fit into Mirkwood one hundred times and more. He is proud, but I detect a hint of fear beneath his visage. He doesn't trust me. I wonder what he is hiding?

Yet again I try to bring his random lecturing back to the subject I came for. "Lord Allad." I intone, bringing his sermon to me to a stop.

"Yes, yes?" He asks quickly, flustered looking.

"I am afraid we do not have a lot of time to waste," I say softly, then reiterate out situation. "We came here because we were told that a mercenary we are hoping to meet has stopped here. We a searching for them because we have been given information that they know details of something we seek. The last we heard is that they were headed here and were to rest here for several weeks. This has allowed us to make haste here in hope of finding them."

He wrings his hands. "It _would_ help if you gave me some more information about whom you seek." He says feebly, his voice trembling as if a man twice his age sits in his seat. "I know of many travellers who have came in recent months to rest here. Many are battle worn, many are skilled in crafts, many healers." He waves his hands, coming to a stop. "What more do you know of this person?"

What more do I know? What more do you want me to tell you? I have already told you all I know of their travelling habits, what they were last seen wearing. The only other thing I could give you is a facial description. Which I do not have, and if I did would I be wasting my time here with you? "They ride light brown horse, which has dark brown flanks." He shakes his head. He lies; there is a horse of that description in the stables.

I continue. "They ride without a saddle and carry packs on the horse. They wear green and brown, usually a brown cloak." He shakes his head again. I have already entertained the thought that the person is an elf, but have come to the conclusion that many skilled riders ride without saddle. They could be a Ranger or someone of that sort. He lies. You would notice someone like this person, unless, of course, they want to go unnoticed. Which is always a possibility. I could be overestimating the wit of these mortals.

My lips involuntarily tighten, but I continue speaking. "They are known to be an extraordinarily skilled bowman who works well with knives and other blades. They are a skilled healer. They carry medicines with them at all times and never deny help to someone who requests it." I had gathered all this information over several weeks. Mainly from men and woman met in villages or on the paths between. Each story can differ in small – or great - detail, but they all carried these same characteristics. The accuracy of their remembrances surprised me, but the person's deeds in themselves were making them sound less like a mercenary and more like a hero. In a twisted sense, depending on what stories you heard. There were darker tales, ones that told of ruthless strength and horrible -yet purposeful - acts.

The man shrugs. "I could not tell you, Prince." He mutters, twisting my title. Knowing that I had to declare it to get this audience. Truthfully I would have rather not have them know me, but I had no choice.

I am about to open my mouth and request an open search for my company and I when I am unwittingly distracted. A woman comes though the door. She holds herself well and possesses grace and beauty beyond any other mortal woman I have seen in these halls so far. Any man would prize this woman, even one of the first-born. I check my thoughts, reminding myself that this could be the Lord's Lady. Her actions hold to this. She goes over to a bowl and jug of water at the other side of the room. I catch a glimpse of her hands as she passes and feel my stomach tighten as I see blood. She washes her hands.

I cast a glance at the man in the seat before me. He has straightened and grips the arms of his seat with each clawed hand. Anger is overtaking him and her seems impatient with this woman. His jaw tightens and he grinds his teeth. I wince at the grating sound, but he takes no notice. "What news do you bring?" He manages to snarl at her. "Your hands bode no good news, so tell me quick before I loose my patience with you!"

Maybe she is no Lady of his, but I know nothing of the etiquette of these halls. She may still be. The woman at the basin finishes washing her hands. There is now towel, so she shakes them dry before turning to Allad. The man visibly shakes now, yet she is unperturbed. "The Lady is dead." She says steadily. The man rises and makes to move toward her. She is unaffected by his stance. "The child lives. It is male," She finishes. She makes to move across the hall to the door, but he grabs at her arm before I can move to prevent him. She grabs his wrist and pries it from her arm, displaying strength unseen in her arms.

"Murderer." He growls at her as he steps back.

"I did no such thing." She snaps. "If you didn't notice, your wife has been bedridden for the past month. She has been gravely ill, I am even surprised she managed to birth the child."

He shakes his head, as if to dispute the fact. "No, she has not been that ill."

The woman's face is a still as stone and is very pale as she stiffens. An unusual characteristic, I think to myself. "You might have noticed if you spent one ounce of your time with you wife, instead of extolling the virtues of your land to those travellers who have no wish to hear." Her eyes are as hard as flint as she visibly enjoys baiting the man. "It might also have made a difference if you spent less times in those harlot's chambers and more in your own." She says in a clear voice, waiting for a reaction.

He raises his hands and lets out an angry roar. "Out! Out! Besmear my name with foul accusations? OUT! I will not have you in these halls ever again!"

I see that there is a suppressed triumph and glee in her eyes. She gives a small bow and says sardonically. "Certainly, my Lord. I will never darken your door again." She whirls around and leaves.

The man roars again. He moves over to a table and flips it over, shattering the apparel placed there and spreading the food over the floor. I wonder should I fear for my own safety. He turns to me, an ugly look on his face. "That is the wonderful mercenary you seek. Leave with her and never come to my door again to request help."

I don't bother bowing or saying a word. I depart, leaving him to his contemplation, which sounds very like the smashing of more plates. I manage to bark my heels at the door as I leave, but am set upon by the others in my company before I can get my bearings. I say nothing; shake my head at their questions and requests for explanation. When they fall silent all I ask is, "Where did she go?"

Knowing what I mean, they gesture down the corridor and subside to their places by the wall again. Willing to wait for news, willing to leave negotiation to me. I set down the dim corridor, wondering where she went.


	3. Part Three

So no one's reading? It doesn't matter, I'm going to continue anyway.

Part 3

I know it's hard to believe, but I got lost. She was further ahead of me than I had hoped for, but she still only left a barely traceable track to follow. I slowly made my way to a small room, where the door was slightly ajar. I will iterate that I was not eavesdropping; I was only attempting to find out whether she was in the room. But while standing at the door, tilting my head and attempting to her the conversation within, it opened. I was left standing face to face with a small mortal female with a quizzical look on her face. As I stared at her she blushed and pushed past me.

Another figure came to the door. It was the woman from the hall. Schooling myself to request her help in the Westron tongue, the woman quietly inquired my appearance at the door and why I had scared the girl away. What intrigued me was that she spoke in fluent Sindarin. "Well?" She quipped, peeved by my silence.

I clear my throat. This could end up being harder than it appeared. "I wish to ask a favour of you, Lady. If you are who I presume you are?" The question seemed to please her, though the doubt of her identity was very small.

She eyes me steadily and I experience an unnerving sensation of uneasiness. She herself stands at ease, leaning against the door and holding her arms crossed across her chest. I have a notion that she is staring at my face and figure closely, taking in every detail. She signals for me to enter the room and gestures to an empty chair sitting by a desk. She takes one more inquisitive look at me before sitting on top of a wooden chest a few metres from me. I note that it is close enough for her to observe, but not close enough to put her in any danger. Not that I would be of any to her, but she does not know that.

She continues to stare and I move my gaze up to meet hers. We stay locked in that stance before she smiles slightly, apparently sated. "What favour do you wish to ask for, Prince?" she asks. "I have many who come to me for help, and many who come to me for other things, but leave disappointed."

I note the double meaning to her words and a smile twists at my lips before I can still it. She is an observant, smart and slightly vulgar female. I can still see why many desire her. She is already blatantly humorous, seemingly not paying attention to my request, but yet holding her attention focussed on me. "As you know who I am, I will move on to my reasons for being here. I wished to find you to request a favour; we are attempting to track a gang of thieves. They did not bother us until a couple of weeks hence, when they escalated from petty theft to murder, rape and pillaging of the territories of Mirkwood." I watched as she winced at the actions of the group. She at least has a heart, I think happily. She opens her mouth and I think that she wants to say something, so I stop. She shakes her head and signals for me to continue. "They left many dead and many hoping for revenge. What worried us more was that they were assisted by orcs. We don't know how many there were exactly, but the white council agreed that an agreement between this group and the orcs would prove a great problem if things escalated. So we were sent out from Mirkwood."

She nods her head, her face clear and expressionless. "Do you know who I am?" she asks.

The question surprises me. I pause a moment, wondering her reasons behind the question. She probably wants to find out how much I know about her. "You are - or I have been told you are - a mercenary, someone who could be hired for work. I have been told that you are skilled, skills we were hoping for in help to our company. I admit that I am shocked to find you are female, I expected a man. But if you have done these deeds, it will not matter."

She observes me steadily, a quiet look of triumph on her face. "You have been seeking me for weeks, and this is all you know of me?" She shakes her head. "I would have expected more from the hunters of the great wood."

I smile demurely as she is obviously pleased be our actions. "There has been very little to tell of you. Neither hide nor hair of you and your actions in some places." A thought occurs to me. "How did you know we have been searching for you?" I ask and watch as her smile widens into a malicious grin.

"You underestimate me." She states, as if it is the simplest thing in the world.

Intrigued now, I want to know more. "How?"

"You think of the people in this area, of mortals, in the minimalist of ways. They are even beneath your contempt." I note that she cannot hold the contempt out of her voice. She is right, I realise. Respect is given to all, but not recognition or regard for their work. "They are, after all only mortals." She finishes.

This last statement piques my interest. "Are you not mortal, Lady?" I ask, with a small smile, wondering at her answer. Are we seeking the help of a madwoman?

She smirks, and I watch in wonder as she moves her hands up to her cap that traps her hair to her head. She pulls at and it come off. There is a tumble of locks of brown hair down her back, but that doesn't catch my notice. What does is the point of her ears and an unlikely addition on her right ear. "You see why I asked you the question. You have no idea who I am; I have been within your reach several times and more yet you have missed meeting me for lack of knowledge and lack of notice. I was wondering if you would catch up to me here."

My eyes are still on her ear, yet I pull my eyes back to address her again. "You knew we were searching for you, yet you didn't come and find us?"

She smiles and nods. "Certainly. I entertained the thought of sneaking up on you when you made camp a couple of weeks ago, but I was need here. After some thought, I decided that I wasn't actually wanting to meet you."

I know this news shocks me, yet I manage to avoid showing it before she notices. We had not noticed anyone following. "Yet we found you."

"I wouldn't be hard to do. I didn't exactly hide my tracks to here. But you weren't looking for me then." She gave a smug look before regarding me again. "Which leaves me with a decision to make. To help you or not?"

So she still holds the idea to help us in contest in her mind? To sway her shouldn't be hard. "Precisely. I hope you will. Despite our tracking skills, we do not know how to find where they hide. We have been told you hold skill around this area, knowing this and the lands surrounding this in great detail."

She moves back on the chest and crosses her legs, perching completely still on the top. "I am a mercenary, you know. I do not work unpaid."

The sly look she gives me suggests that this is a pivotal point to her decision. I expected this. I reach to my side to find the woven purse in a belt pouch. I hold it in my hands before throwing it over the short distance between us. She catches it, giving me an unreadable look and weighs it in her hand. I know it is rather heavy and she notes this with a look of pleasant surprise. She opens it and takes out a coin and examines it. "All silver." I say. "My father was unhappy to part with such an amount." She raises a questioning eyebrow. "One hundred coins." I answer.

She eyes me with suspicion. "Prince, this is a lot. Far too much just for leading your party to where the gang hides. What else am I expected to do?"

It is my turn to smile shrewdly. "We seek your services. We hope for you to use your fighting skills for us and, if it comes to it, you healing skill."

She seems undisturbed by this admission and stands from her seat on the chest. I quickly follow her action and stand a few paces from her. She observes me and then holds out her hand, palm up. I grip it, knowing the custom, and she looks to my face. "I swear to serve and protect as bound." She states.

"I hold you to your bond." I answer.

"I hold this bond of service true and hold it dear until my release." She finishes. The oath of service is complete, I think. Thank the Valar; it could have been a lot harder than this. We stand in that stance for a minute, unmoving, despite us both. "What is your name, Prince?" She asks to my silence.

"Legolas." I say, without a thought. "Did you not know that?" I say softly, "You know enough about my company and our movements and tasks, but not my name?"

She nods her head to me and relinquishes my hand. Before she can turn away, I catch her shoulder. She visible flinches as I move her hair from her right ear. At closer inspection, my first observation is proved to be true. The outer ridge of her ear has been sliced twice, leaving a sliver of skin between the two cuts. The wound is healed over, but the ugly scar remains.

"When you are quite finished examining my ears." She remarks. I blush, not noticing the rude gesture of my scrutiny before. I look to her and find her green eyes observing me silently. "Do you know what this mark means, Prince?" I shake my head, unable to form words in embarrassment. "Then I will not tell you. You have no need of knowing."

I open my mouth to say something, but she cuts me off. "I hope to leave at first light tomorrow. I will see you at the gates." She pulls my hand from her shoulder and gestures to the door. I do not leave straight away and am still staring at her face. This definitely disturbs her and she responds with the quickening of her anger. "If you leave voluntarily, Prince, I will make you leave."

I kick my legs into motion and exit the room, to find the door closing swiftly behind me. I bark my heels again. Twice in one day. No matter, she is working with us. What we hoped for has came true, thing will be a lot easier now.


End file.
